


Just The Beginning

by nimrod262



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Legends, Love, M/M, Nivanfield, Resident Evil AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-27
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-05-09 17:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5549744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nimrod262/pseuds/nimrod262
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is how real legends begin, with an ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just The Beginning

 

June 2057: The two men moved slowly along the darkened track in the forest; swinging their flashlights from side to side. In front of them a black and white Border Collie quartered the ground. Then it stopped, head up, alert. It's ears were fully pricked and it's nose twitched as it scented the night air. Suddenly it ran forwards, down towards the old boathouse. A moment later two warning barks rang out.

"What is it boy?" Danny pointed his flashlight in the direction of the noise. There was something on the porch.

"Finney, over here!"

************************

The Summer moon lit up the bedroom; casting blue shadows in the grey half-light. Aside from the old pine bed and a couple of bedside cabinets, there was still little furniture in the familiar room. The colours remained muted and masculine. But the sliding doors that opened onto the terrace were closed now. These early summer nights could still be chilly for old bones.

The moonlight silhouetted a man sitting upright against piled-up pillows. He was dressed in green pyjamas. Once he'd had a powerfully-built body, with a deep chest and a broad back. Although the big frame remained, the musculature around it had wasted with time. Time and age, it was all the same he mused. The blue-grey light reflected off the pale walls to reveal a second man, partly hidden by the first. He looked younger, barely fifty perhaps; and there was still a sense of grace and strength in his form.

But there was also another source of light somewhere in the room, presently hidden from view. It reflected back from the eyes of the older man, revealing him to be awake. Just two small hard points of light.

The eyes had always been hooded, and now they had shrunk even further back into their sockets, like the pale skin surrounding them. Yet they remained the brightest things in the sparsely furnished room. Unwavering, apart from the occasional blink. Brown eyes that would sparkle at the recollection of a friend or a happy moment, yet turn cold and unforgiving at the memory of a cruel and ruthless enemy. An enemy long vanquished, but whose legacy of death and destruction still haunted the world.

But at this precise moment the eyes were peaceful. Chris Redfield had reached a conclusion. It was time to die. He looked down at the smiling face of the younger man alongside him.

"I think I'm ready now Ace."

"I, we, know. We're ready too.”

"How long have you known?"

"A couple of months babe, no more."

"And it?" Chris looked down at Piers' right arm, the tracery of white veins glowing softly in the moonlight. The source of the other light.

"Longer probably, but she didn't tell me at first."

"She?"

"Umm, yeah. It took me a while to figure out, years actually. But it, she, incorporates my caring side, my compassion, my nurturing. All the things we normally associate with women, rather than men. So I think of her as female."

"You never cease to amaze me Piers Nivans, are you saying you're a hermaphrodite? After all these years?" Piers looked up and caught the twinkle in the nut brown eyes.

"Don't be silly bear, of course not. We all have those feelings, those instincts. It's just that they're more apparent in some than others. Remember when we first became a couple? I told you then you were my hero, but that you were damaged goods. I said that my role in life was to heal you, and to keep you safe, always. Remember?"

"Yes Ace, I remember. Like it was yesterday." Chris bent his head down and kissed the arm. "Can't remember the last time I properly kissed a woman though."

"My Mom, at our wedding. You were both drunk!"

Chris was silent for a moment as the distant memory came back to him.

"Ahh, she was a wonderful woman. I do miss her. Dammit Ace, sometimes I think everyone we ever loved has died."

"We've still got the boys; Danny and Finn. The sons we never had. And their extended family is our family."

"I know, and you're right, they are our family now. But the old friends have long gone. Robin, Dee, Sherry, Mike, Mac . . . Oh! I miss them so."

"Hush babe, don't upset yourself again. It's all part of the cycle, life and death. And now it's our turn. It'll be OK, trust me Chris."

"How can you be so sure? I've got years on you. Your body's not a sick joke. Like mi . . ."

Piers put his right hand over Chris' heart, the veins pulsed and glowed brighter.

"Shh my love, we've been here before. It, she, made a deal, although I wasn't conscious of it at the time. That caring part of me, the part dedicated to you, gave her life, and a home. And in return I got my own life back from the C-virus. Before she brought me back I'd already set out on a journey. Part of me was sad, because I'd left you behind. But I remember feeling an overwhelming sense of gladness too; because I knew I'd saved you. I wasn't frightened. Then I came back, she did that because of what I'd given her. Because I still had a job to do. Well, that job's finished, you said it yourself just now. This time we'll make that journey together."

"When?"

"You'll know, it was always going to be your decision. Yours alone. My only decision was to accompany you. She's happy with that too. She's kept me healthy, abnormally so, but everything has that same cycle. A beginning and an end."

"Does she have a name?"

"Yes, it's Piers, Piers Nivans."

************************

The terrace outside the bedroom still looked out over the exquisite Japanese garden. It had changed little over the years, with three exceptions.

The little cherry tree had grown, it now rose as high as the house and needed constant pruning to maintain it's proportions. That task fell to Finn's son; Dr. Christopher Finnbar Macauley-Svenson. When he wasn't operating at the military rehabilitation centre that bore his father's name; he practised his surgery skills on the local trees! The centre occupied the site of the former BSAA base which had closed back in 2020. He'd married Branna Fonseca. The daughter of Branna and Raul. She'd inherited her mother's jet black hair and green eyes, and her fathers warm olive complexion and fiery personality. For his part, Christopher Finnbar had inherited his father's love of medicine, and his silly grin, his compassion and his love of woolly hats.

A small pagoda-like structure now stood in the most sheltered corner of the garden. It provided protection and seating from the chill northerly winds that came in the Spring and Autumn. Chris and Piers had built it together, and it became a favourite spot for a certain former President who did exactly what he'd said he would in his later years; come back and visit.

The third change was a line of dog-roses along the far back wall of the garden. Two to the left, and, at the moment, one to the right. Under them lay three generations of Ruff Nivanfield. The space in the middle was reserved for their masters. Chris and Piers had argued long over the choice of a suitable shrub or tree. Maple, Willow, Oak. In the end Claire had decided for them.

"It’s going to be a Peace Rose." she had said with an air of finality. "A mixture of soft petals and thorny stems." Then she had given the pair a withering look that brooked no response. "And you can make out of that whatever you want boys!"

************************

"Time to get up Bearfield." said Piers as the morning sunlight filtered into the room. He knew this was the part of the day Chris hated, so he did it quickly and efficiently. Finn had taught him. One arm around Chris' back, under his arms. The other arm under Chris' buttocks. He lifted his partner up from the bed and down into the wheel chair, in one seamless fluid movement.

"If I could handle Tophie, it shouldn't be a problem." he'd said to Finn.

"Sure El Tee, but Tophie didn't have two wasted legs. Whatever you do, never put weight on them. They won't take it."

And that's what Chris hated.

"Twenty Six some years fighting Bioterrorism and barely a scratch. Fifteen minutes in a lumber yard and bingo, no legs! How's that for irony Piers?"

It was more like fifteen years in actual fact, but Chris had said the same thing most everyday for the last twenty years now. Piers didn't mind. It was the days when Chris didn't complain that he got worried. Then he knew the pain had gotten worse.

Piers Daniel Macauley-Svenson had made most of the modifications to the Deuce of Hearts to accommodate Chris' disability. Wider doors, a stair lift. Danny's son was good with his hands. A gentle blond giant, just like his father. Always a gifted sportsman, he trained in treating sports injuries after leaving the air force; following his father's career at the physiotherapy centre in the hospital. It was there he’d met his partner Scott, a marine receiving treatment following a training accident. Like everyone else, they lived up at the old base. Or 'Over the shop' as Finn liked to say.

Chris and Piers had quickly become dotting godfathers to Finn and Danny's two boys. In fact, the list of godchildren never seemed to close!

"Do any of them know you're an atheist?" Piers always asked at the baptisms.

"Shh!" Chris would say, "I recently converted to agnosticism, but don't tell anyone." That was Piers' cue to roll his eyes. Which was Chris' cue to continue.

"And before you say it, yes, it is a word. I looked it up!"

************************

A few weeks after that night time conversation, Chris announced he'd like to go down to the old boathouse. To watch the sunset over the broad river where he taught Piers to fly-fish.

"We haven't been there for quite a while. I've always liked it down there. It came alive when Danny and Finn moved in, remember Ace?"

"Yes babe. Alpha's work sure stood the test of time."

"Ha, ha! Didn't it just. Our boys were so happy there. Come on, let's go now. Ruffy, you too. Get up you old slow-coach, shake those bones!"

Ruff IV looked up at his masters and slowly wagged his tail. Like the rest of him now, it was thin with age. Gingerly he stretched his old joints and stood up. He still liked a walk, especially when it was just the three of them. He rested his grey muzzle on Chris' lap.

"Come on old fella, it's time." said Chris, as he gently rubbed the spot between Ruff's ears. He looked across at Piers and smiled. The warm, kind smile that 'Dadfield' was famous for.

"On me Lieutenant Nivans. Let's do this!"

Piers put a blanket over Chris' legs and pushed the wheelchair out of the house and towards the boathouse track. Although Chris had a motorised chair, Piers preferred to push him in the lightweight one.

"Gotta' stay fit for my Captain." Piers used to say.

"Yeah! Work that booty Ace. Always your best asset on Alpha I thought."

Then Piers would pout. "And what about my sniping?"

"Hhmm, that was pretty good too, but no use in the bedroom!"

"Bearfield!"

"What?"

"I love you."

************************

They reached the boathouse about an hour before sunset. A few wisps of alto-cirrus caught the orange glow. Near the horizon some banks of cumulus had begun to turn purple.

Piers lifted Chris carefully out of the wheelchair and placed him tenderly onto the porch swing-seat; sitting beside him. Ruff settled himself happily at their feet.

They didn’t speak for a while, content in each other’s arms, enjoying the beauty of the view. The river was quiet nowadays. They’d stopped issuing fishing permits when the media and general public found them and their hideaway. The books and films of their earlier exploits had put them in the spotlight. Chris had never suffered the press gladly, and Piers’ only concern was for Chris’ welfare. As they got older the interest in them gradually waned. The fact that the proceeds of their fame had helped fund Finn’s rehabilitation centre was of little concern to the intrusive and the curious. But they didn’t mind.

“The people that matter know, that’s enough for me.” Chris always used to say.

As the sun sunk lower, Chris squeezed his husband affectionately. His brown eyes bright from the sun’s reflection.

“Let’s get comfy one more time Ace.”

Piers smiled back at him.

“I thought you’d never ask babe.” Gently he lifted and swung Chris’ legs along the swing. The seat-back folded down to make a flat ‘bed’. Chris had designed and built it himself. Piers snuggled up along side in his favourite position. His head resting on Chris’ chest, his bare right arm around his neck, soaking up the last of the dying light.

The sun set in a fiery blaze of reds, yellows and golds.

“Ready babe?”

“One thing first. Did I ever tell you I love you Piers Nivans? Because I always have, with every fibre of my body. I’ve owed you my life so many times despite you risking your own to do it. You’ve always had my six and you’ve never complained, not once. I just wanted to make sure you understood. Thank you my love.” He bent his head and softly kissed Piers’ forehead.

Piers looked up, his hazel eyes bright with tears.

“And did I ever tell you Christopher Redfield that I loved you from the very first moment I saw you? That I decided there and then to dedicate my life to you, to serve you and to protect you; whatever the cost?” And may I say, it’s been a privilege Captain.”

They kissed, then Piers put his hand over Chris’ heart. The tracery of veins pulsed steadily, glowing bright, phosphorescent.

Chris swallowed.

“Um . . . Will it hurt Ace?”

Piers cocked his head to one side and laughed.

“No, not a bit babe, I’ll be right behind you.

Chris looked down at Ruff and scratched his ear, “Good bye pup, look after that garden for us.”

“See you there then my love.” He closed his eyes. “On me Lieutenant!”

“I’ve got your back Captain. Always have, always will.”

A flash of light lit up the three figures on the porch for a brief instant, then it gradually faded away.

************************

“Finney, over here! Look, on the porch swing.”

Finn ran up and joined his partner. He looked at the scene.

“Oh Jesus, no! Captain? El Tee?”

He bent down and checked for vital signs, both men were dead, the dog too. Finn crossed himself.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God.” then he began to cry. Danny held him tight in his big arms.

“Hush now Finney, be brave for your Captain.” He kissed his husband’s head.

Chris’s eyes were shut, his face locked in the fatherly smile that Finn had first seen in all those years ago in Edonia. Piers was looking up at him, the hazel eyes still bright and wet with tears. Danny lent down and gently closed them with his hand.

“Goodbye Piers, my first love.” He whispered. The he straightened up. “Come on Finney, let’s fetch the boys. Jess can stand guard.”

They walked slowly back up the track, holding each other close as they always had. They didn’t see a second intense flash of electricity, or hear Jess bark excitedly, they were lost in grief.

When they returned half an hour later, Jess was barking down by the river. The flashlights caught the dog in their beams.

“Here boy, what’s up?”

They went up to the boat house. Ruff IV lay still on the porch, covered in the blanket. The swing was empty, Chris and Piers were nowhere to be found. . .

************************

The Deuce of Hearts is still lived in. Danny and Finn decided to make it their own home when they retired. If you went there now, you would see four dog roses growing against the long back wall of the Japanese garden. Four generations of Ruff Nivanfield. But the space in the middle, reserved for the dog's two owners remains empty to this day.

Because the bodies of Captain Chris Redfield and his Lieutenant, Piers Nivans, never were found.

And that's how the legend began.

**Author's Note:**

> This story has been gnawing away at me for the last two months or so. Gnawing and growing. Like an incubus. It got so bad that the only thing I could think of was to publish it; even though I'm in the middle of an on-going story arc. I'm not sure I can explain it. I'm not sure I even want to know. Let's just say perhaps it's me coming to terms with my own mortality and leave it at that. ;) 
> 
> Oh, and please don’t be sad. As long as some enjoy writing and others enjoy reading; Nivanfield will always be with us.


End file.
